Last Stand at Coyote Yelp Pass

One of my earliest memories of Cattle Poke Ranch was cranky old Gramps Laroo taking me up on his knee on the front porch of his rickety cabin, and telling me life lessons from his cowboy heritage.

"Bucky," he would say, "riding a horse is not like riding a rocking chair.  You see, boy, a horse ... is sort of like a woman."

My five-year-old mind churned over that new bit of information for a moment.

"No it's not," I said.

Gramps coughed a bit and came back at me with, "Of course it's not.  You see, boy, a horse ... is kind of like a cow."

"No it's not," I assured him.

"Get off my lap and go muck out the chicken coop, you ungrateful little snot," Gramps snarled.

Gramps was filled to the brim of his mangled old cowboy hat with bits of wisdom like that.  Apparently that's what sixty years of experience and a third-grade education will get you.  Even so, there are few more cherished images in my memory than that of ol' Gramps sitting in his rocking chair on that front porch, his fiddle tucked under his grizzled chin, and Old Blue asleep at his feet.  (Actually, that's the only memory I have of Old Blue.  To be perfectly honest, I sometimes wonder how long that dog had been dead before any of us noticed.  Such is the risk of a life devoted to porch-napping; You don't leave too much of a void when "The Sweet By And By" comes knocking.)